


Viciously Fanciful Domicile

by InsideMyBrain



Series: stuff i probably won't finish :( im sorry [2]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: (though it's not the focus of this it is the end goal), Aika Village, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art Deco Furniture, Bisexual Murder Girlfriends, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Body Modification, Broken Technology, Coded Plays, Eye Horror, Eyes, F/F, Fire, Fucked Up, Glitch Horror, Gore, Harpoon Gun, Having Fire For A Face, Hypnotism, Incorrect Historical References, Kidnapping, Masked ball, Medical Horror, Mind Control, Minimal Planning Has Gone Into This Ok, Mirror Universe, Murder, Murderers, Nonsensical Universe, Operating Theatre, Parallel Universes, Ridiculous Fashion, Sebald Code, Secret Passages, Secret Tunnels, Sugar Bowl - Freeform, Tags May Change, Tea, The Great Unknown - Freeform, The Little Snicket Lad, burning at the stake, forest fire, i don't know yet, ish?, maybe smut?, vfd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-15 19:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsideMyBrain/pseuds/InsideMyBrain
Summary: Esmé Squalor has never believed in magical, faraway lands like Narnia or Wonderland. Instead, she believes in the power of money and fashion, letting them dictate her life choices. But when she comes across a strange mirror in an antique shop, she's sucked into a world unlike any she'd ever conceived of.





	Viciously Fanciful Domicile

**Author's Note:**

> sorry the first chapter is so short! it'll get longer (and more interesting) later. :)

Normally, Esmé Gigi Geniveve Squalor wouldn't dare set foot in an antique shop.

Antique shops were full of the sort of people Esmé despised: collectors and hoarders. These people were the epitome of unfashionable and delusional - they truly believed items like china dolls and 1950s-esque wallpaper looked good in their homes. They never knew when to get rid of things that were unstylish, so their belongings were outdated as well as ugly. But perhaps the thing Esmé hated the most about them was the fact they were so similar to her. She shared their passion and obsessiveness over a new find, but she hated to be associated with them.

Esmé and these people were like two different sides of the same coin. Her side, however, had much better taste.

Esmé was here today because art deco furniture had suddenly become in. She'd just read the news on Twitter that morning, and proceeded to immediately Google where to get art deco furniture in the city. The results yielded many places that were more stylish than this, but this was the closest one to her penthouse. She had an important meeting with a very wealthy potential client that morning and she couldn't afford to be late, so she came here, figuring she would quickly make a purchase before work. 

She was regretting it slightly. 

 _At least I won't be here long,_ she thought to herself, walking through the shop. Her high heels clicked on the tile loudly. _I'll just buy something and leave. I might even be the first of my friends to own something art deco. And- oh God, is that woman wearing Crocs?_

Side-eyeing the woman committing the fashion atrocity, who was examining a glossy statue of a rooster, Esmé slipped into the next aisle. 

Lined up on the shelves of this aisle were trinkets akin to something a grandmother would have in her home. Esmé shuddered. On the other side of the aisle mirrors were hung, so she turned to look at those instead. 

Esmé examined her reflection in the mirrors with satisfaction. Her makeup was applied perfectly; glimmering eyeshadow was swept across her lids and contrasted with sharp black eyeliner. Her lips were like dark cherries, glossy with lip stain, and her highlighter positively glowed. Her outfit was very in - a black shirt with tiny sequins sewn in like stars in the night sky, paired with a shimmery skirt and black heels. Her hair, almost as dark as her shirt, was swept back neatly and secured in a low ponytail, simple and chic. Being in this place and looking as good as she did, Esmé felt like a diamond in dirt. 

Shifting her attention from her reflection to the mirror that hosted it, she examined the frame with a frown. This one was much too old, too ornate. It would have been in a few months ago, but not now.

Esmé moved along the aisle, glancing at anything vaguely art deco. Nothing captured her interest, however, so she reached the end of the aisle with no possible purchases. 

She sighed and checked the time on her phone. She only had a few minutes more to browse before she had to go to work. 

 _Oh no_ , Esmé thought in a panic. _If I don't get something art deco now, I'm going to be too late! Everyone will have art deco things before me!_

Esmé began walking hurriedly through the store, glancing all around for a piece of art deco furniture. The store was big, and the aisles were set up in a confusing way, so Esmé lost track of where she was. Soon enough, she found herself lost among rickety chairs and slightly sticky tables. And now, she was going to be late for her meeting. 

"Shit," mumbled Esmé, looking around for an exit sign. All she saw was furniture and another mirror. Sighing, she faced her reflection again.

"What am I to do?" she asked her reflection. Her reflection shrugged. 

Esmé blinked. Hesitantly, she took a step closer to the mirror. _It was probably a trick of the light,_ she thought. She stared at the mirror suspiciously. 

The mirror in question was a full-length one, showcasing Esmé's beauty from her head to the sharp heel of her stilettos. Its frame was a rich, dark wood, like milk chocolate, and many words were carved into it. At the top there was an eye carved into the frame and painted quite realistically. The glass of the mirror had the same effect rippling water or the smoke from a fire had; it distorted her reflection. The object radiated powerful energy, but in a controlled, subdued way.

Esmé reached out and brushed a hand against the frame. It was warm to the touch, like a cup of coffee, and vibrating slightly. Squinting, she saw the carvings on the wood were actually a single phrase, repeated many times. 

"If there's...nothing...out there," she read, "then what was...that...noise?" Esmé cocked her head. "If there's nothing out there, then what was that noise?" she repeated. 

A soft fluttering sound could be heard from the top of the mirror. 

"Strange," Esmé muttered, checking her phone again. It was official - she was late for her meeting. "Goddamn it," she groaned. 

Esmé was too busy ordering an Uber to notice what was happening to the mirror.

The eye was blinking. 

Slowly and languidly, the eyelid went up and down, its eyelashes fluttering ominously. Moments before, it seemed like a harmless decoration, but now it was something sinister. As it blinked, it slowly became more real, wood and empty space being replaced with living tissue. With a final blink, the brown iris locked on to Esmé's figure. 

Suddenly, Esmé was slammed into the ground. She let out a shriek of pain and surprise. She felt a white-hot heat sear into her ankles. As she was dragged backwards, a nauseous feeling of dread began to pool in her stomach, like water was slowly being poured into her. Esmé screamed and clawed at the carpet, but it was useless. Then, she blacked out. She slumped, and her screams were cut short like someone had turned off the television. She was still being dragged backwards, towards the mirror. She reached the glass, then was sucked in.

Esmé's limp body disappeared into the surface of the mirror.


End file.
